Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

By the time the front doors to the station closed, the din of voices within was merely a murmur compared to the roar outside.

“Miss Collins and Miss Moore,” Detective Means said, meeting us at the front desk. “Let’s get you to a more private room.”

Every eye turned our direction and the whispers stilled as we walked through the large room filled with desks. It was unnerving as people stared. Once we finally made it to the plain room with gray walls and a gray metal table and chairs, Detective Means escorted us inside.

“I know it’s not much, but please have a seat. Thank you for coming in today. You can understand how surprised we were to get your assistant’s call.”

Isaac nodded and stayed outside as Mr. Owen, Chelsea, and I entered the room.

Mr. Owen offered his hand. “Detective Means, I’m Daryl Owen, Miss Collins and Miss Moore’s attorney.”

She motioned to the table. “This isn’t that formal. We just have a few questions for you.”

“And we hope we can answer them,” I said. “Mr. Owen is our moral support.”

The detective smiled. “Can I get you something before Officer Emerson joins us?”

Though we all declined, she was out and back with plastic bottles of water. Through the open door as she reentered, I watched her hand one even to Isaac. Within a few minutes, the five of us, including Officer Emerson were seated about the small table.

“Miss Moore,” the detective began, “I’m Detective Means and this is Officer Emerson. We were present during the arrest of Edward Spencer. You weren’t there?”

“No,” Chelsea said.

“Yet you wanted to answer questions?”

Chelsea sat taller. “I wouldn’t say I want to. I’m here.”

“Please tell us about your relationship with Mr. Spencer.”

I squeezed Chelsea’s leg and gave her a smile. Mr. Owen had talked to both of us about the possible line of questions. He’d advised us on what to offer and what to omit.

“I dated Bryce… Edward Spencer from September until a few weeks ago.”

“Dated?”

“Yes.”

“In fact, you lived with him. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. I lived at Carmichael Hall. However, for the last week I’ve been staying at Montague Manor.”

“Those are nice addresses. When did you first meet Mr. Spencer?”

“Shouldn’t we concentrate on Melissa Summers?” Mr. Owen asked.

“Miss Moore, living at Carmichael Hall for… what would that be… two months? How often did you and Melissa Summers cross paths?”

“We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?” Detective Means asked. “Do you believe she was living at Carmichael Hall?”

Chelsea shook her head. “I can’t say. I can only say I never saw her.”

“Did you eat meals there?”

“Yes.”

“Who joined you for meals?”

“It varied. Sometimes I ate alone in my room. Other times I ate with Bryce or Suzy.” She looked at Mr. Owen and added, “Mrs. Suzanna Spencer, Bryce’s mother.”

“Was there additional food prepared for someone you didn’t know was there?”

“I-I don’t know. I’d never lived like they live. I never saw the food prepared. They have people who do that. People who serve it.” She shrugged. “Not as many as at Montague, but it wasn’t like we all hung out in the kitchen.”

“So you started dating Edward Spencer and immediately moved into his house?”

“Yes.”

Detective Means leaned across the table. “That seems quick.”

“I didn’t have anywhere to live. I got a job at Montague Corporation, in their human resources department. And I was going to get an apartment when Bryce offered me a room in his home.”

“A room? Your own room?”

Chelsea nodded. “Yes. I can tell you which one. Some of my things are still there.”

“You didn’t share a room with Mr. Spencer?”

“No.”

“Did you ever enter Mr. Spencer’s suite?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever see another woman in his bedroom?”

“Of course not.”

“You said there were a lot of people there. Maybe Melissa was there and you didn’t know she was?”

“It’s possible,” Chelsea said.

Detective Means opened a folder and pushed a large glossy picture of Melissa across the table. “Look at her. Does she look familiar?”

“Only from the news.”

“Only from the news? Haven’t you accompanied Mr. Spencer and made statements regarding her disappearance?”

Chelsea nodded. “I have, but the first time I saw her picture was on the news.”

“Miss Moore, where were you this past Saturday?”

“I woke at Montague Manor. Jane, the house manager, asked me to help with the engagement party.”

“That must have been awkward,” Officer Emerson said.

“What? No. I was happy to help.”

“You were happy to help with the party celebrating the engagement of the man you were dating to your college roommate?”

My stomach knotted listening to their questions. From the outside it had to look twisted. Hell, from the inside it was twisted.